


Always Had the Key

by Omni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek Gets Therapy, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omni/pseuds/Omni
Summary: Years after Derek's left Beacon Hills, he runs into Stiles at a conference for werewolves and their emissaries. While they both have changed a lot, some things still remain the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, acollectionofsterek, and I hope you enjoy! :)

The familiar scent hit Derek before he heard him. “No way. Derek Hale? Is that really you?” Cliche words delivered with a low, rough voice that was the older relative of the tone Derek remembered. When he turned towards that voice, that scent, it took his eyes a moment to register what they saw.

How long had it been? Seven years? Eight? The last time he'd seen Stiles, the human was just a teenager, just a kid. All wide eyes and baby cheeks and gangly limbs that couldn't be controlled. There was barely any resemblance between the Stiles of Derek's memory and the man who now stood before him. Except he still had a cutely upturned nose, and a mouth made for smirking. Gone, however, was the awkwardness. And the baby fat. Stiles' face was sharper, his eyes no longer wide in wonder. He had a look about him that spoke of someone who had seen Hell, but just kept going, until like steel he was forged into something dangerous and strong. 

“Well I'll be damned,” said Stiles, moving even closer. He dressed the same, in a way. Still wore plaid, but the shirt beneath it was just a plain olive green instead of sporting a graphic. This close, Derek could smell leather, wood, poisons, and ozone mixed with Stiles' personal scent.

“It's good to see you,” Derek offered truthfully, the words coming easily. 

Something about either the message or the tone must have startled Stiles, because he blinked and gave a bemused smile in return. “You've changed,” Stiles observed, dark eyes moving rapidly as he seemed to be taking in all of the little differences in Derek's appearance, just as Derek had with him.

“Time does that to people,” agreed Derek with a slight nod. “You here with Scott?” He motioned around at the rest of the lobby, where werewolves and emissaries were signing in and milling about. 

A shadow came and went across Stiles' face in the blink of an eye, then one side of his lips was tugging up in something not quite a smile. “I'm not part of a pack right now, actually.”

“Oh.” Derek wasn't sure how to process that. He hadn't really kept up with the happenings in Beacon Hills, so didn't know when such a division occurred or what it was over. “So then why are you...”

That drew a small snort of a laugh from Stiles, and he winked. Derek's stomach flipped, and a warmth started to bloom in his chest that he hadn't felt in a very long time. “I'm a pack-less emissary. So, I go to a lot of these things. Partly because there are _fantastic_ panels on magic and emissary stuff, but also because, hey, you never know. I might just find a pack I really click with.”

Derek squinted and gave a playfully teasing smile. “Can you even be an emissary without a pack?”

“Fine, asshole, I'm a pack-less _druid_.” Despite the insult, Stiles was grinning, his whole face looking brighter for it. “What about you? Looking for an alpha? Or are you here with yours?”

Flashing his red eyes, Derek felt his smile grow. 

“Huh,” breathed Stiles, grin melting into something softer, almost reverent. “Time really does change things.” Then he licked his lips and his expression cleared to something more alert and focused. “So, things are going well for you, I take it?”

Thinking of his little pack and simple, happy life, Derek gave a nod. “Yeah. We have sort of the opposite problem you have, though. No emissary. We do have a human who can at least handle some of the things the werewolves can't, but...she doesn't have a spark.”

Stiles bit his lip, then slowly ran his tongue along it, something else that hadn't changed about him. “You want to go grab a coffee or something? The panels don't start for another few hours.”

The warmth in his chest spread a little and Derek found himself nodding. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

So that's how they found themselves tucked into a corner table at the hotel's cafe, sipping shitty coffee and playing a game of catch-up that should feel more awkward than it was. Derek told Stiles about the small pack he and Cora formed in upstate New York, bringing in a few other strays like themselves and making something like a family. Stiles told him a little about college, a lot about traveling around the country, and nothing about Beacon Hills.

“God,” Stiles said, interrupting himself partway through a story about apprenticing with an aging emissary in Kansas. “Sorry, I just never thought I'd see you again. I can hardly believe this is actually happening.”

“You could have called or texted, if you needed me.” Derek gave a little shrug, a bashful duck of his head. “My number's still the same.”

Letting out a startled huff of a laugh, Stiles leaned back in his chair. “Seriously? Oh man, I nearly did probably a million times. But I told myself you'd probably changed phones by then, that you'd cut all contact.”

That confused Derek and he felt his brows draw together as he leaned forward a little. “What? Why would I?”

Stiles shrugged. “Because you wanted to put Beacon Hills and all of its horrors behind you? Because you were moving on? Because that's exactly what I did when I left?” His mouth clicked shut after the slip of a reveal, and Stiles' eyes dropped to his empty coffee mug. “Why would you want to have anything to do with anyone from that place ever again?” whispered Stiles, though Derek wondered if it was fully directed at him.

“It's the place I needed to escape from, not the people.” Derek thought about all of the nights when his thumb hovered over Stiles' contact in his phone, but he never tapped it. What would he even have said? Today I saw a baseball bat at the store and thought of you? 

“Then I'm sorry I never called,” Stiles confessed, meeting Derek's eyes. “Here.” Then he was pulling out his phone and passing it across the table. “I lost your info after I switched carriers.”

The plastic was warm, indicative of being stored somewhere close to Stiles' body, and Derek tried not to think too much about that as he typed his own number in. Just in case, he also added his address. “Call or text anytime,” he said, passing the phone back. “I mean it. And if you're ever in the area, let me know.”

There was something a little sad and a lot wistful about Stiles' smile then. “Will do.”

They didn't see much of each other for the rest of the conference, both going to different panels and only occasionally passing each other in the halls. Derek tried not to think about how each time made his heart do a little stutter, and a stupid smile always took over his face. It was just the excitement of seeing an old friend. That was all. 

The conference hadn't even ended yet, when the first text came. 

**Have a safe trip home. It was great seeing you again.**

Derek stared at those words for a long time before finally typing in his reply.

_Great seeing you, too. Come by and visit sometime. My door is always open._

**That seems dangerous. You should probably get locks.**

It was good to see he was still a little shit.

_My door is always open to YOU._

**Giving me a key already? This relationship is moving faster than I thought it would.**

How could a joke leave him feeling so off-kilter, his heart pounding like he was being chased. It wasn't fair, thought Derek. From the day they met, Stiles had been like a perpetual itch Derek just couldn't reach. A constant in his thoughts, a distraction in his presence, an ally on which he could always rely, an anchor when he... But Stiles had been young, and he deserved more than Derek could have given him. Stiles wasn't supposed to sweep back into his life and remind him of everything Derek couldn't have, what Derek wasn't worthy to even strive for. 

_You had a key before. Why break tradition?_

Maybe if he joked back—though it was only half a joke—then Stiles wouldn't know what his words had done to him. While it was true Derek was doing much better than he had been, thanks to the help of therapy and a supportive pack, he still didn't think he was what Stiles would want. Still thought Stiles deserved something better.

It was a long time before he got a response from Stiles, and then it was only a photo of a giant to-go mug of gas station coffee. 

**Fueling up for the road!**

-*-*-*-

Six months passed, and rarely a day went by without a text. They became the little highlights of Derek's day, even though they were usually just random photos of things Stiles saw and thought looked neat. It still meant Stiles was thinking of him, wanted to share that moment with him. Derek always responded, wanting to ensure Stiles knew the thought was appreciated. 

**So we didn't talk about significant others.**

At eleven-fifteen on a Wednesday night, Derek found himself sitting in his living room and staring at his phone with a sense of dread. He slowly set his book aside so he could focus his full attention on his phone, and carefully typed out his response. 

_We did not. Why?_

In the short amount of time it took for Stiles to respond, Derek's mind supplied all sorts of possibilities. Maybe Stiles was having relationship troubles and wanted some advice. Maybe Stiles just met someone. Maybe Stiles was about to invite Derek to his wedding.

**Just curious. We've been texting a lot without really saying anything, and there's still a lot I don't know about the new you.**

_Nothing new about me. But you're welcome to ask anything._

**So...?????**

_So?_

**Does the Big Bad Alpha have a partner in crime? What would you call it? A mate?**

Derek snorted. 

_No to all of that._

**Wait, seriously??? I'd have thought someone would have locked that down by now. Wait, is it because you have a shitty romantic history?**

**Fuck, that was dumb of me.**

**Feel free to tell me to fuck off. I'm so sorry.**

_No, it's fine. And you're partly right. Mostly things just haven't worked out, the few times I've tried dating._

**Oh. Why? Did they suck? Or, well, not suck well enough? ;)**

A heat came to Derek's cheeks and he cleared his suddenly dry throat. 

_I have to trust them to really let them get close, and that trust is hard to come by. Most don't want to put in the time and energy it takes to make something work._

**Wow they really did suck. That's shitty, man, sorry.**

_What about you?_

He almost didn't ask, stomach twisting at the potential answers.

**Right like that's even a question. Not much has changed since high school in that department. Well, I mean, college was a little better, but... When you travel around a lot like I do, it's hard to find someone who wants you for more than a one night stand. And that's never really been my thing.**

_That's a shame._

Shit, wait, that came out wrong.

_I mean about people not wanting more, not about you not liking one night stands._

_Because I don't like those either._

_I just think it's ridiculous that no one can see what they could have by being with you, and that's a shame. You deserve better._

There was no response for a very long time, and Derek worried he'd said something wrong. Maybe overstepped. Maybe he was too obvious, and he had scared Stiles away.

**What could they have?**

Nearly ten minutes had gone by before Stiles sent that message, and Derek couldn't even make sense of it.

_What?_

**You said they couldn't see what they could have by being with me. What could they have?**

Drawing in a shaking breath, Derek wondered how honest he should be.

_They could have someone amazing. Someone loyal and brave and strong. I mean, you're kind of an asshole, but that's actually part of the charm, I think._

Another five minutes went by, his heart pounding in his ears.

**I think your memory's faulty. Not about the asshole part, but the rest...**

He sat up in his chair, feeling indignant on Stiles' behalf. 

_You were always there when I or anyone else needed you. Even when you didn't even like me, you saved me. You did that for others, too. You never gave up, always tried to figure everything out. You were the best of us._

There was no response. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Derek gave up staring at the screen and decided to just go to bed and try to sleep. If he had fucked everything up, he'd try to figure out a way to fix it in the morning.

Just as he lay down, his phone pinged to indicate a new text. 

**I wish you hadn't left. Or that I'd gone with you.**

Derek didn't know what to say to that, didn't know what that meant. 

_It would have been nice to have you with me. To know someone had my back._

**You had Cora.**

_Not the same. And you had Scott._

**Not the same.**

**Not even close.**

**I needed you.**

Something in Derek's chest twisted, and his eyes stung. 

_You know where to find me, if you ever need me again._

Stiles didn't text a response, and Derek eventually fell asleep still holding his phone.

He didn't receive anything else from Stiles the next day, and wondered if he should text something. An apology, maybe? For what, though, he wasn't sure. Maybe for leaving Stiles there, where something horrible evidently took place. Derek wished he knew a way to set things right, but he didn't even know where Stiles _was_ , let alone what he could do for the human.

**What's your favorite treat?**

The text came while Derek was helping his beta Louisa make dinner for the pack. She took one look at his face while he read the text, and smirked. “That the boy you know? The one you said you ran into at the conference?” Her dark eyes were gleaming with mischief, and Derek bet she was planning to tell everyone about this. It was a rare thing for their alpha to get texts from someone outside of the pack.

“It's Stiles, yeah.” Derek's hand hovered over the screen, but then he shook his head and pocketed the phone. He could reply later. Right now, he was helping with dinner.

Louisa clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You should answer him.”

“But-”

“No buts. Go on, now. I won't need your help again for another twenty minutes.” She shooed him with a flick of a dish towel and a laugh. 

Reluctantly Derek obeyed, ducking out of the kitchen and retrieving his phone. 

_What do you mean?_

**Like do you like chocolate? Pretzels? Apples? What do you eat when you want a nice treat for yourself?**

_All of those things are nice. But I only really like chocolate with mint in it._

**No ok you aren't getting this. If you could have any treat in the world, what would it be?**

_Key lime pie._

**Wait seriously?**

_Yes. Either that or cherry._

**You're always just full of surprises, aren't you.**

Heat flooded his cheeks again, and he chided himself for reacting like a kid to all of these texts. Though hadn't that always been the case when it came to Stiles...

_What about you? What do you like?_

**I'm easy.**

**I mean when it comes to food. We already established I'm not...yeah.**

**But I'd say chocolate cake. Like the richest, most overwhelming kind of chocolate cake.**

Derek's nose wrinkled in disgust even while a smile forced itself onto his lips. 

_I can't stand that kind of cake._

**More for me. :)**

_Speaking of food, I kind of have to get back to work. Helping make dinner for the whole pack tonight._

As much as Derek would love to stand there and chat with Stiles all night, he knew he couldn't. Though at least this boded well, and meant that Stiles might start texting him regularly again.

**You cook, too? Fuck. Stop being so perfect.**

**I'm kidding. Don't stop.**

**Ok yeah go cook. Talk to you later.**

Perfect. No one had called Derek that before. And he knew Stiles was joking, but...god, he wished he wasn't. He wished he was good enough for someone like Stiles to think he's perfect.

-*-*-*-

A few days passed with their texts more or less back to their normal frequency and content. Then one morning Derek opened his door on his way out for a jog, and saw a battered, grey SUV pull into his driveway. Hunters usually drove black SUVs, but Derek felt himself tense all the same. Until the driver's side door opened and Stiles hopped down with more grace than he had exiting that old Jeep of his.

That warmth started spreading through Derek's chest again, and he took two, slow steps out onto his porch. “Stiles?”

Stiles grinned and gave a salute, then looked like he was just remembering something and dashed around to the back of his vehicle. “I know it's rude to just _show up_ like this, so I brought a present to make up for it!”

“You didn't need to do that. I told you, you're always welcome here.”

“I know, I know. Still.” Hands carefully balancing pale blue box, Stiles trotted up the porch steps to stand in front of Derek. “Here.”

It was key lime pie. One side was smushed a little, probably from shifting around while Stiles drove, but the rest of it was deliciously beautiful. Derek could smell it through the box, and he took a big whiff of the tangy citrus scent. Stiles' grin somehow grew wider at the action. 

“Come inside,” Derek offered, nodding his head back towards the still-open door. 

As soon as they were in his kitchen, the pie safely on the counter, Derek was hooking a finger in the front of Stiles' belt and reeling him in for a kiss. The lips beneath his were slack with shock at first, and then they practically _devoured_ him. Derek let out a small, startled sound as he felt his back suddenly pressed hard against the counter. But then Stiles' hands were there, gripping Derek's lower back, pulling him in closer to Stiles and away from the counter's edge. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispered against the side of Derek's face, during a brief pause in their kissing. “You really like key lime pie.”

Derek nearly choked on his snort, and had to lean back and away from Stiles so he could cough and laugh. When he refocused, he saw Stiles' eyes watching him in something like wonder. “It's not the pie,” Derek assured.

“So you meant those things you said. About how great you thought I was.”

“ _Think_ you are,” corrected Derek. “Know you are.”

He heard Stiles' heart give an excited skip, watched as Stiles' tongue ran across his kiss-wet lips. “You, too,” said Stiles. “You're amazing. Loyal, brave, strong. You're all those things, too.”

Closing his eyes before Stiles could see them watering, Derek leaned in to give Stiles a slow, gentle kiss. Then he rested his forehead against Stiles', their noses rubbing together. “You know...my pack's in need of an emissary.”

Stiles' grin was blurry from so close, but still gorgeous. “That right?”

“Mm-hmmm. You happen to know any emissary that needs a pack?”

“Just so happens,” Stiles paused to give a little peck to Derek's lips, “I do.”


End file.
